I’m publishing this statement on the eve of the first sentencing hearing in the federal case against Keith Raniere and NXIVM. I’ve remained silent about my former connection to him and his organizations for numerous reasons—the most important being my personal healing and protecting the life I have fought hard to build since I defected.

As I prepare to speak at the hearings, beginning with Clare Bronfman’s tomorrow, it’s clear the time has come for me to establish my position publicly.

In December 2001, I took a 16-day introductory workshop with Executive Success Programs, Inc. (ESP) at the behest of a now-former friend from college, Farouk Rojas. The company touted itself as a human potential school that sought to further ethics in the world. I and thousands of others flocked to its headquarters in Albany, New York with the understanding that its unique “technology” (Raniere would later call it a “talk therapy”) could radically improve our lives and the lives of others. I became a coach the following spring and began editing the course materials as a barter to take more advanced trainings.

ESP rebranded itself as NXIVM Corporation in 2002 and would later spawn dozens of spin-offs (ESP remained NXIVM’s main “educational” branch until 2018). Each new organization was pitched as a one-of-a-kind noble endeavor that would solve one or more societal problems—violence, gender issues, negligent parenting and the lack of journalistic ethics, among a myriad of other global issues. The workshops sold ranged from $300 to $20,000 a person—the first one I took cost $6,000 back in 2001.

By the time Raniere showed a personal interest in me, I was heavily indoctrinated into NXIVM’s culture and dogma, and had already been groomed by his women. They said his time was worth upwards of $100,000 per hour and that spending but a minute in his company was life-changing.

It was life-changing, just not the way I expected.

After just 10 days of personal contact, I began an intimate relationship with him in October 2002, when he asked me to commit to him personally and professionally for life.

There I was: an idealistic 25-year-old woman, advocating for free expression and human rights with PEN, the world’s first NGO. There he was: “the world’s smartest, most ethical man” asking me, of all people, to spend the rest of my life with him.

© 2020, ivy nevares. All rights reserved.

Little did I know, he was a 42-year-old manipulative narcissist and sexual predator.

I moved from Brooklyn to Albany two months later to work as the company’s communication specialist and the only writer with whom Raniere published. In keeping with my vow, I went on to work exclusively for him and his companies for nearly 17 years. Sixteen years, eight months and six days, to be exact.

Cults abuse people through a highly deceptive, complex, invasive and drawn-out process of manipulation. With the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to characterize a victim as having been “stupid” for falling prey. Yet to truly understand how and why these abuses happen, one must consider the dynamic process by which people are victimized by manipulative sociopaths such as Raniere.

In my case, NXIVM’s psychological warfare began before I ever stepped inside the door—it started with an hour-long enrollment call from that former friend. By the time the first five days of the workshop were over, I was taught that people are either “parasites” or “producers,” that there are no such things as “cults,” that I’m responsible for literally everything in the world now and in the past, and that “there are no ultimate victims.” Victimhood, according to Raniere, is a choice.

That last assertion is perhaps the most dangerous because removing victimhood from the human construct of justice automatically legitimizes criminal conduct. It’s curious that Raniere now considers himself the ultimate victim of the U.S. justice system—as do his cohorts.

Although NXIVM was not religious, there were whispers that Raniere, known as “Vanguard” to the organization, was someone akin to a messiah-type figure. Many intelligent people I met in those early days revered him so that I naturally questioned my resistance to these ideas—precisely the intended impact of the initial workshop.

People joined ESP for many, many different reasons. What drove me were personal insecurities and roadblocks to the next phase in my life: trusting a partner enough to start a family. There were, of course, lots of nutty things in that workshop, but there were also benefits: I overcame several limiting beliefs that had haunted me since childhood. I began taking back my territory, my very self-esteem. Although this, too, is common to manipulative, coercive control groups: if there were no positive aspects to the teachings and practices, nobody would stick around for long.

What I didn’t realize was the initial workshop was a gateway to systemic conditioning that would slowly erode my instincts and defenses, opening me up to brutal psychological, emotional and physical abuse.

As is the case with many victims, it took me a very long time to recognize I was being abused—that I did not ask for it, I did not deserve it, I did not consent and that I was not alone in experiencing these things. Even once I began to recognize that I was being abused, the feeling of shame I experienced kept me stuck in the situation for quite some time.

I finally found the courage to leave Albany three months after Raniere’s scandalous arrest and extradition from my home country in March 2018. It took another two months to rip out the last claws still digging into my mind, which prevented my seeing the full picture and my place in it. As I removed the last one, the blindfold finally fell away and, in its absence, grew pure rage.

The cycle of awareness and ire finally erupted while reading the first chapter of “Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships.” I owe the authors, Dr. Janja Lalich and Madeleine Landau Tobias, a sincere debt of gratitude for their work.

That fateful day in August 2018, I realized that I had been part of a cult. (If the term offends anyone’s vernacular, replace “cult” with “high-demand group” or simply “abusive relationship,” because that’s what they are—cults can get a little weirder sometimes). Realizing I was in a cult was humiliating, but the worst was realizing the people I had trusted with my life had betrayed me in the most sinister way.

The irony is unmatched: I joined NXIVM to work on my trust issues, yet their treachery nearly eroded my trust in humanity. “Nearly” because I’ve since opened up to friends from my past and friends who also defected. Their kindness and solidarity have helped restore my belief that people can care for and protect one another.

In June 2019, after the jury deliberated for only four hours, Raniere was convicted of seven federal crimes, including fraud, racketeering, forced labor and one count each of sex trafficking of women and children. The jury unanimously decided that he committed each of the fourteen enumerated criminal acts underlying his racketeering charge. Two of those criminal “predicate acts” involved Raniere producing and possessing child pornography.

Many of the charges relate to a female secret society he created in 2015 known as DOS or The Vow. DOS baited women with the promise of conquering their fears, personal limitations and historical dependence on men. No other women’s “movement” in history offered quite the full package: self-reliance, success, freedom from subservience, and, to sweeten the deal, spiritual enlightenment.

I never took part in DOS, although I had my share of the denigrating practices more than 10 years before DOS was born, thanks to Raniere’s unyielding demands. I did participate briefly in the equally misogynistic female and male precursors to DOS: Jness and SOP or “Society of Protectors.” However, I largely avoided the workshops because I would feel worse about myself every single time I attended.

DOS recruited over 100 innocent women in the U.S., Mexico and Canada under false pretenses—precisely Raniere’s M.O. The leaders concealed the fact that he led DOS, and they gathered “collateral” consisting of highly embarrassing and even incriminating materials the group used to blackmail women into submission.

What is even more shocking is Raniere continues to lead DOS from prison, as well as its male counterpart. While SOP is alive and well, I hear some of its members have gone underground to form and find recruits for a male-version of DOS. Worst still is the strong hold he continues to have over his most ardent followers, especially those in New York City and the ones still hiding in Mexico, fearing prosecution.

Keith and his first line of sex slaves—specifically Allison Mack, Lauren Salzman, Nicki Clyne, Rosa Laura Junco, Loreta Garza, Daniela Padilla and Monica Duran—all abused new recruits and lied to them about the supposed symbol that was to be cauterized on their pelvis. It wasn’t a symbol, but rather a pathetic drawing of Raniere’s initials. Danielle Roberts, who may well lose her medical license in New York for her involvement, branded numerous women while lying to them about the symbol’s true meaning. She also continues to stand firmly behind her actions.

DOS was an inevitable escalation in the twisted world of Raniere, but as much as it garnered the most media attention, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. He’s been playing this depraved game for decades, and the abuses I and other female victims suffered served only his amusement. Sadly, he did not work alone.

Similar to Jeffrey Epstein’s Ghislaine Maxwell, some of Raniere’s women blackmailed, exploited and procured young women to satisfy his pathological need for power and control—particularly the late Pamela Cafritz, who was the first to groom me and normalize his abhorrent proclivities. To me, Cafritz was the most monstrous of the lot. Not only because of what she did to me until her dying days but because she procured women and girls for Raniere with absolutely no remorse.

It’s taken tremendous personal effort and a strong support network to get back on my feet after so many years of unyielding trauma. I considered remaining silent, but this summer, to top all things COVID and, for lack of a better word, 2020, Raniere’s loyalists—led by Nicki Clyne, Michele Hatchette, Suneel Chakravorty, Marc Elliot and Eduardo Asunsolo—did the unthinkable: they started a so-called “movement” called “We Are As You” (a.k.a. The Forgotten Ones) outside his prison in Brooklyn.

More on that nonsense later. The point is when I saw this farce of a social justice initiative, I could no longer stand by and do nothing, so I took to Twitter. And just three days ago, they launched yet another front—I’m guessing the first one didn’t work out. This one’s called “Make Justice Blind” and the same brainwashed gang is taking up a fight with the federal government now—good luck with that.

It’s time for a formal statement—secrecy is the sociopath’s creed.

Through this, I take the first step in transforming from a highly private person to potentially something else. This is the beginning of my social emancipation from NXIVM.

With this statement, I also begin taking back control of my narrative, which has been told inaccurately or outright falsely by some dubious media outlets, and opportunistic journalists and bloggers. I also plan to publish the statements I make at the sentencing hearings here.

I hope Raniere and his co-defendants get the sentences they deserve so they experience, first-hand, what it’s like to lose precious, irreplaceable time.

Although in their case, it is well deserved.

More to come.

Worth writing down

On my former connection to Keith Raniere and NXIVM